


Miles Morales: Prowler Jr.

by smutgusher



Category: Spider-Man (Ultimateverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, Brutality, Codependency, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Underage, Forced Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Masochism, Medical Assault, Medical Examination, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder, Murder Family, Murder Kink, Power Bottom Miles Morales, Sadism, Slow Burn, Supervillains, Touchy-Feely, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Unhealthy Relationships, death kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21759163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutgusher/pseuds/smutgusher
Summary: After Miles Morales is bitten by a radioactive spider, he goes down a bad path in life. Together with his Uncle Aaron, they spiral further and further into the darkness, feeding off their worst impulses and desires, letting nothing and no-one get in their way.A Spider-Verse Villains AU with Aaron and Miles as incestuous and codependent doomed lovers.
Relationships: Aaron Davis/Miles Morales
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	1. Introduction

_OK, let’s do this one last time._

_My name is Miles Morales. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for the past year, me and my uncle, the Prowler, have been the deadliest force this city has ever known._

_You think you know how this goes, right? Uncle and nephew take out Spider-Man, kill like a hundred more people, and rule over the city of New York after Kingpin has his day._

_That’s the story everyone knows._

_This is the story you don’t._

* * *

“It doesn’t matter, Miles,” said Jeff, pulling his son into a hug. “You passed the exam.”

“But I didn’t get in, Dad. You had me do all that extra stuff and they don’t pick me anyway.” argued Miles, struggling in his father’s grip until Jeff reluctantly released him.

“It’s a lottery, son. There was always a chance, and it just didn’t work out this time. Don’t let it get you down, there’ll be other chances.”

Miles sighed, and threw the letter onto the couch next to him.

“I know.” Miles admitted. He opened a box of noodles from the Chinese takeout spread over the table. “Thanks for the food,” he said, and dug in.

They put a movie on. Some bright, mediocre cartoon on a streaming service. Not exactly to the kid’s taste, but Jeff wouldn’t let him watch anything stronger than a PG-13.

He tuned it out, focusing on the food. Something else leaked into his vision. Warm and fuzzy.

He looked up at the wall. The picture was of his mother, Rio. That picture had filled in the gaps of a lot of his blurry childhood memories. A gentle touch, a warm embrace. A heart full of bursting happiness.

“Your mother would have been so proud of you, Miles.” murmured Jefferson.

Miles said nothing. His face contorted, biting back the strange tears for someone he never really knew.

When he was done eating, he got up to leave, not bothering to finish the movie. Jeff decided not to comment,  switching to the news. Some ridiculous story about Spider-Man c oming to fix an  earthquake.

Miles walked into his room, looking at the sketchbook laid out under the lamp of his drafting table. He closed the door behind him and opened a window, swept the book and a few pens and markers into his bag, and carefully stepped out onto the fire escape.


	2. A Night With Aaron

“MILES-IPHONE would like to share a picture with you.” said the popup on Aaron’s phone. Beneath it was a picture of himself from 1 second ago, adorned with goofy animations. “I’m Watching You!” said the caption.

He looked up and out his window, to see his nephew pressing his face up against it, a silly expression on his face. “Ummkur Rrron!” he yelled into the window pane.

“Hey, Miles.” said Aaron, and opened the window. They stared into each others eyes for a moment, before Miles leapt into the room.

“Wow, you got some new stuff here,” the kid looked around in wonder. Aaron always seemed to do well for himself. A nice sound system at the back of the room, the latest videogames on the shelf.

“You wanna watch a movie, Miles? I think you’re old enough for this one,” he said, picking out a yellow box with a sword-wielding woman on the front. “It’s only the coolest movie Tarantino ever made.”

Miles’ eyes widened. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. I’m gonna make some popcorn.”

Moments later, Miles is sparring with the punching bag.

“So, how did it go?” Aaron asks, staring into the microwave.

Miles stopped for a moment, and then threw punches into the bag even harder. “They said no. I passed the exam and all, but they still won’t let me in.”

Aaron approached his nephew from behind, clasping his hands over his shoulders. Miles melted backwards into the warm embrace, his heart fluttering.

“It ain’t about where you go to school, you gotta make the most of it, you know?”

Miles sighed. He reached for his uncle’s hands, directing them around his chest and torso. “You know, I got an essay I need to write. Got it today. Great Expectations, more like no expectations,” he grumbled.

He turned around and buried his face in his uncle’s chest, wrapping his hands around the midriff. Suddenly, his feet left the ground. Uncle Aaron had picked his nephew up, and sat down on the couch with the boy in his lap. Miles looked up with his puppy-like eyes.

Then Aaron lifted the child’s shirt and blew a raspberry on his stomach. Miles squirmed and giggled. “Uncle Aaron! Stooop! I’m not five!”

“Oh yeah, that’s right, you’re a _teenager_ now. So that means I gotta do this.” and started to tickle him.

“Nooo!” he yelled through his laughter, tears of mirth forming in his eyes.

_Ping!_

“All right kid, move over.”

M iles rolled off his uncle’s lap onto the couch,  and reached into the bag he brought with him.  Aaron opened the microwave door and opened the popcorn bag.  A buttery, salty smell filled the room .

“Yo, you’ve been holding out on me. You throw these up yet?”

Miles looked up from his sketchbook.  “Nah, man, you know my dad. I can’t.”

Aaron  gently tugged the book from his hands and  looked across  it , a smile creeping across his face. Then he stood up suddenly. “C’mon. I got a spot you ain’t gonna believe.”

The kid protested all the while, but didn’t stop following  Uncle  Aaron down to the subway.

“I’m gonna get in so much trouble,” he groaned. They stepped out of the subway car and waited for it to clear, before jumping down and walking along the tracks. Aaron tried the maintenance door, which was thankfully unlocked, and they escaped into the tunnels.

Deeper and deeper they went,  and the sounds of the underground surrounded them. Trickling water, scurrying rodents, and the rumble and roar of trains overhead.  Miles took in as much as he could in the dim light, and Aaron led the way, clicking on his phone’s flashlight for the darkest spots.

Then Aaron pulled a breaker, lighting up the canvas. A huge space, full of empty walls and spiderwebs.

“Whoa,” Miles smiled. He put his hands around his mouth and yelled upwards.

“BROOKLYN!”

The sound  echoed.

Uncle Aaron slung a bag off his shoulders and unzipped it. “There’s a lot of history on these walls,” he commented.

Miles was drinking in the sight. “This is so fresh,” he breathed.

With one hand, Aaron grabbed his nephew’s shoulder. With the other, he slapped a can of spray paint into Miles’ hand, and leaned over to his ear.

“And now you’re on your own, Miles.”

Stepping away, he pulled out a tape deck and hit play, and watched Miles  move  to the beat .

A layer of pink.  Spots of blue and yellow. In his long, swooping script, he tagged the feelings in his heart across the tile canvas.

No Expectations.

Then he looked back at Uncle Aaron. “Little help?” he asked with a cheesy smirk.

Miles sat on Aaron’s shoulders, occasionally standing to hit the highest parts.  Aaron’s hands were there, holding him in place.

Before they knew it, it was finished.

“Hey, stand on this.” Aaron dragged a barrel over, and grabbed the white and black paint. He traced a silhouette around Miles, and stepped back.

“Wow,” Aaron chuckled.

Miles joined him, and sized up the artwork. “Is it too crazy?” he asked, a sudden wave of embarrassment sweeping over him.

Aaron put his arm around his nephew and drew him in. “Naw, man. I see exactly what you’re doing here.”

He looked down at the kid in his arms. “You know, me and your dad used to do this back in the day.”

Miles looked up in disbelief. “Stop lying,” he grinned.

“It’s true,” Aaron nodded. “Then he took on the cop thing, and married your mother, and... I don’t know. He’s a good guy. Just... you know what I’m saying.”

A phone vibrated. The pair patted their sides and pockets, but it was Aaron’s phone that had the message. He looked at it, and a stern expression flickered across his face for a moment.

“All right, c’mon. I gotta roll.”

They packed up. Miles held back for a moment, and took a snap of his work,  and almost dropped his phone when a spider crawled out of his sleeve and bit him on the hand.

He stared at it for a moment, and swatted the arachnid. It curled up on the ground.


	3. The Two Spider-Men

Brooklyn Middle was a typically underfunded public school, with all the problems that came with that. Miles was a good student, though, and threw himself into his work. Good enough for the other school, not that he wanted to go there anyway. This was the place for him. His people were here.

His people, who knew his name, yeah. And he sat at their lunch tables, and said hello and goodbye at the right times of day. But nothing ever really stuck. He never got invites to parties, never went around their places after school. For him it was just heading home, slapping stickers on street furniture all the way. Unless he was to try to hit a street sign, trip over his untied shoes, and faceplant in the middle of the road right in front of a cop car.

The sirens chirped and lights flashed for a second.

It was Dad, of course.

Miles sat in the back of the car, saying nothing.

“What, I can’t pick my son up from school anymore?”

“Walking would have been fine, Dad.” Miles protested.

“You can walk plenty on Saturday when you peel all those stickers off,” said Jeff.

“DAD! You saw that? I... don’t know, uh, if that was me...” Miles deflected.

“And the two from yesterday on Clinton.”

Miles shrank into his school clothes. “Yeah, those were me.”

The traffic signals turned red. Jefferson pulled to a stop and looked to the back seat, and they meet each other’s gaze awkwardly. The older man sighed.

“Listen, I gotta leave you with your uncle for a few days. My shifts won’t let me be home next week. Gotta lot of work to do.”

“ _Really_?” Miles’ features lit up for a moment, until he saw his Dad’s pained expression. He coughed and dropped his smile. “Uh, really? I thought you didn’t like Uncle Aaron.”

“Listen, I...” Jeff took a deep breath. “We all make choices in life. Your Uncle Aaron, he’s made his.”

They sat in silence for a moment. The car started moving again.

“You want Chinese food?”

The first day with Uncle Aaron goes well. They stick to his apartment for the fun times, Miles doing his homework before they go back to his bedroom at Jeff’s, and Aaron tucks him in.

They finally got to watch Kill Bill. Miles did hide during some moments, but he watched the ludicrous fountains of blood with wonder. Aaron, low-key ridiculous nerd he was, had found the Japanese cut with _extra_ blood and gore. Looking at his nephew snuggled into his side, it was working for him.

God, did he love that kid.  All of  that kid.

The movie done, and a promise made to watch the second part together at another time, Aaron and Miles got to talking.

“You seeing anyone, Miles?”

“No,” the kid looked down, a little embarrassed.

“Aw, come on. There must be someone, good looking kid like you, girls should be falling over themselves to get at you.”

“No, th-there’s no-one.” Miles cringed.

“No game, huh. Naw, I can _not_ have a nephew of mine on the streets with no game. You know about the shoulder touch?”

“Of-of course I do!” the kid lied badly, “but, uh, tell me anyway.”

“Tomorrow, you find whatever girl it is you been lookin’ at, walk up to her, and be like...”

Aaron puts his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and looks into his eyes.

“ _Hey._ ”

Miles burst out laughing. “You serious, Uncle Aaron? So like I walk up to her and be like... hey.”

And he drops his hand on his uncle’s shoulder,  and looked into his eyes.

For just a moment, his train of thought derailed, and his heart  thumped a  hard  _pang_ in to his chest. He came back to the ground when his uncle continued.

“...no no no no, like,” and Uncle Aaron raised his hand and placed it back on his shoulder. “ _Hey._ ”

In a mocking voice, Miles did it again. “Heeeeeeey.”

“You sure you’re my nephew, man?” Aaron laughed. His phone vibrated. “Hold up. I gotta take this.”

Uncle Aaron stepped out onto the fire escape. Miles looked out the window at his uncle, and  clutched his shoulder  where he’d touched him.

The next day,  Miles comes to Aaron’s apartment to find him leaning on the kitchen counter, looking sullen.

“Uncle Aaron, what’s wrong?”

He sighs. “Miles, I got a job I need to go to. I told ’em I weren’t around, but they ain’t listening. So I gotta...”

Miles  just looks up at him. Uncle Aaron catches his eye, and a wild idea comes into his head.

“You wanna see where I work?”

That’s how uncle and nephew found themselves in the locker room at Alchemax Labs that evening. Aaron suited  up in his purple enforcer outfit, and Miles was fascinated by it.

“It’s so cool, Uncle Aaron.”

With the mask on, Aaron wasn’t the most expressive, but anyone could read his blush from the way he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright, go change.”

A couple of minutes later, Miles emerged from a stall wearing mostly black, with an old purple sweater over the top of it. “Hey, we’re matching!”

Aaron gave him the thumbs up.

Miles got the full tour from an intern, culminating in a gushing talk with their head scientist, Dr Olivia.  Lots of talk he didn’t fully understand about parallel universes, and her work to prove they exist.  About how choices that someone makes creating countless other possibilities.

“...we’re about to test our new supercollider in...” and she looked at the clock on the wall. “Well, now. Do you wanna watch?”

“Um, sure!” Miles accepted.

Before he knew it, he’d been hustled along into a dark  but glittering, computer-screen-lit room overlooking a wide, white expanse. He ran to the giant window and looked down.

“So this is Prowler’s kid, huh?” said a voice behind him. He turned around to see a his uncle in uniform, flanking a large, suited man. “Call me Wilson. Wilson Fisk,” he said, and offered his hand.

Miles took it. It completely enveloped his own.

“H-hi.”

“Nice kid you got there, Prowler.” Wilson said to his back.

“That he is, sir.” said Prowler.

Wilson clapped his hands together. “Showtime. Let’s get this test a-go. Doc?”

Olivia rolled into sight on her office chair. “You heard Mr Fisk. Let’s do this.”

And then a wall of the chamber exploded, and a green, gargoyle-like creature swooped in, holding...

“Spider-Man?” Miles gasped.

Wilson looked to Prowler, who vanished in an instant, blasting his way out through the emergency door and into the chamber of the supercollider with a heart-stopping screech.

“Look at him go. I pay him good money to put down freakin’ nuisances like that, and he’s sure as heck good at it.” Wilson cheered.

Miles’  heart felt like it was in a vice.  He pressed his face to the window, trying to follow what was going on.

Two against one, and yet Spider-Man was holding his own. He swung his way around the collider, fighting his uncle and what Miles realized was the Green Goblin.

Wilson started to hum a familiar tune.  He pressed a button on the counter in front of him, activating the PA.

“You like my new toy?” he said, eyes on the scene. “Cost me a fortune but, hey, can’t take it with you, right?”

Spider-Man was pinned down under the claws of the Goblin.

“You came all this way. Watch the test! It’s a helluva freakin’ lightshow, you’re gonna love this.”

Echoed off the rounded walls, they could just about hear Spider-Man’s protests. Something about not knowing what it could do.  It was drowned out by the roar of the machine starting, and the screens around them blinking on with alerts and statistics.

Bright lights crept up the walls of the chamber, and with a _clunk_ , a small device in a box lowered down from the ceiling, locking into place between the two massive rays on each end.

Then they switched on, firing bright, colorful particle beams into the box.

Wilson looked incredibly pleased with himself. “Look at that, kid! The results of all my good money.”

Excited chatter built behind them. Scientists called out progress reports back and forth. A portal opening. Multiple dimensions?

And a deep rumble.

There was an unearthly scream. All eyes were drawn to it, and what they saw is Spider-Man breaking free from Goblin’s grip. Not for long, though, as the mutant grabbed the so-called hero and shoved him into the path of the beam.

“Goblin, no!” Wilson thumped the desk. “Get him out of there!”

And then everything exploded.

* * *

Miles had dropped into a fetal position when the collider blew up, blasting out the windows and throwing Wilson clear across the room.

Wilson, though, being tough as hell, just stood up and dusted himself off. Prowler appeared out of nowhere by his side, looking across the room to see his scared nephew under the table. He curled a finger, and Miles came scurrying over. Another man joined them, a pale, white-haired guy.

“Let’s find ’em.” said Wilson.

Through long corridors, down elevators. A scientist approached Wilson, asking for more time, more tests, more–

“We’re done with tests,” said Wilson dismissively.

“But sir–” the scientist quivered.

“I said we’re done. No more tests. Get that thing ready to go again.”

The scientist backed away, and ran. “Run faster,” Wilson sneered. “These guys are weak.”

Miles pressed backwards into Prowler. A clawed hand dug gently into his shoulder, but directed him firmly onward. Into the chamber.

“All right, let’s find this freakin’ nuisance. And hey, somebody get this kid a mask.”

An anonymous hand pushed a ski mask into his hands. Prowler put his other hand on Miles’ other shoulder, and gently moved up to his head, putting the mask on.

The place was smashed up. Massive hexagonal wall panels piled up, rubble strewn across the floor, and a hint of red in the distance.

They approached it.

“A... glove?” Wilson ground his teeth.

Then a red blur swooped by. Prowler pushed his nephew into the arms of the white-haired man and blasted off towards Spider-Man.

“I’d say it’s nice to see you again, Spider-Man. But it’s not.” grimaced the boss.

“Hey Kingpin,” Spider-Man sniped. “How’s business?”

“Booming! Ha!” Kingpin laughed bitterly. Tombstone, the white-haired man, covered Miles’ chest with one pale hand while he drew his gun, but the kid wiggled out of his grasp and backed away.

Then he was yanked by the front of his sweater and placed on a dune of rubble. “Wait here, kid.” Spider-Man called back, while he fought with Prowler.

“You really shouldn’t be doing this, Kingpin! It can’t be worth the risk.” the web-slinger called back, dodging Prowler’s swipes, slashes, and rocket-powered punches.

“It’s not always about the money, Spider-Man.” Kingpin said, firmly. He’d drawn his gun too, firing away.

A thread wrapped around both of the weapons, yanking them out of Kingpin and Tombstone’s hands, followed by a shot to the mouth to quieten them, and a long spinning thread that wrapped the two together. They toppled to the ground.

Prowler was nowhere to be seen. Spider-Man dropped down in front of Miles. He scrambled backwards in panic, slipping over rubble.

“Okay kid, let’s get you out of h–” and then Miles was suddenly hit with the worst headache of his life, freezing him in place. A stream of whispers flooded through his mind and he winced, and yet the clearest thing in front of him was the masked man. He patted the ground around him, and touched on something he could use.

“Wait,” said Spider-Man, reaching forwards in shock. “Wait! You’re... you’re like me–”

In one single motion, Miles swung hard. The lead pipe crashed into Spider-Man’s head. He doubled over on the ground, groaning.

“Oh god, no kid, wait a m–”

Miles raised the pipe up with both hands and brought it down on Spider-Man’s head, and he just kept going, and going, and going. 

His hands shook.

Tears streamed from his eyes.

A whine escaped from the victim with every hit.

He kept going, and going, and going, until there was nothing left. Until what _was_ left was on him, red blood and fleshy viscera, pink and gray. Until there was no strength left in him, even after the massive hit of adrenaline.

He dropped the pipe. His chest hurt. He was hyperventilating. He was shaking all over. His eyes were blurry. His head throbbed. A bright red thing, motionless on the ground, was in the center of his vision.

_Clap. Clap. Clap._

“Bravo, bravo! This kid, I like this kid a lot. I wanna see more of him.”

Kingpin was on his feet, covered in ghostly threads. Clapping, slowly. Grinning.

Prowler was there. He pulled Miles into a hug.

Miles held on tight.


	4. Symptoms

“I don’t need to tell you not to breathe a word of this to anyone, right?” Uncle Aaron told Miles the next evening. “I made some calls and you’re good, just _don’t say anything_.”

Miles wasn’t paying a lot of attention. Despite it being the middle of winter, he was burning up.

Aaron noticed. He put his hand to Miles’ forehead, and it came away soaking wet.

“Damn, kid. No school for you tomorrow. Imma go out, get you something.”

He left.

Miles closed his eyes.  Every ugly detail played back across  his eyelids, and he quickly reopened them again. He wanted to vomit, but he’d already done that in the locker room.

People liked Spider-Man. But he thought back to what his dad said, he’s a vigilante, he swings in and takes the credit for everyone else’s hard work, hiding away… and he tried to destroy the collider, kill his uncle! And he made money from doing that, beating people up! All those masks and suits and t-shirts and Christmas albums...

Yeah. Maybe he did everyone a favor, not just Kingpin.

He stood up, shaking like a leaf, and carefully walked over to the kitchen. He put his hand on the counter and opened the cupboard door.

Taking his hand _off_ the counter, though, was a problem, because it wouldn’t move.

OK, take the other hand off the cupboard and no, that’s stuck to it. Oh, hell.

Breathe, Miles.

He pulled again. The hand on the counter released, but the cupboard door came off completely, and he fell over the kitchen  table, landing on  the floor next to it.

On his back, he looked up at the ceiling, and raised his hand.  Shaking it didn’t do o anything.

Alright.

Put it to the ground, both feet on the door,  and  _pull_. 

“Ngggggggh!” Miles screamed through gritted teeth, pulling his stuck fingers from around the wooden handle. They didn’t move.

Again.

He pulled, and screamed the place down. The wood creaked  and groaned  with  a telltale splintering noise,  tearing away at his fingers until he broke free  and rolled across the room.

He bumped against the shelf of records, and came to a stop.  He raised his hand again, covered in huge wooden splinters.

With a pinched finger, he tried to pull off one of the bigger splinters, and then wiped his hand on his shirt. Which was a mistake, because now his hand was stuck to it. He tugged at it, standing up, moving his arms away from his body, and then  _up_ ,  and then his shirt was over his head and he couldn’t see. He tripped over his own feet and landed on something rough, blundering around while he fought with his own clothes.

The shirt ripped, and two scraps of fabric hung from his  hands. He looked down at his feet, firmly attached to the wall,  and his pants stuck to a single toe.

“Um...”

Then Aaron walked through the door.  He took in the scene – a trail of wood splinters  and a broken cupboard door, the coffee table knocked over, papers  _everywhere_ , and his almost-naked nephew  _standing on the damn wall_ , and dropped the bag he was carrying.

Miles looked over and slipped, falling on his ass,  before curling up into a fetal position and rocking back and forth on the ground. Aaron rushed over.

“Uncle Aaron… what’s happening to me?”

“I… I don’t know, Miles. I don’t know.” Aaron gingerly reached down to his nephew, picking him up in his arms and carrying him over to the couch.

Miles took a great, shuddering breath. “Did… did I do the right thing?”

_Oh,_ thought Aaron.  _There it is._ He decided to deflect.

“What do you think, Miles?”

The kid hit him with those eyes,  and sat up in his lap,  right in his face.

They were  _really_ close,  getting even closer.

Miles  lips  touched Aaron’s. His breath washed over his uncle’s jaw, sliding his hand around the back of his head. He slipped his tongue into his uncle’s mouth for a moment, before  breaking the kiss  tenderly,  and then crashed into his side in a  tight bear hug.

“Miles.”

Aaron put his thumb to his nephew’s chin, directing him back towards his face.

“Miles, you can’t kiss family like that.”

The kid’s mouth hung open a little. Aaron’s head was ringing. _This was so wrong, why did he do that?_ he asked himself. But despite his repulsion, an intrusive thought floated to the top of Aaron’s mind. What if…

He traced his thumb around Miles’ lips, and immediately felt terrible for doing it.  His nephew,  with a worried expression on his face,  like  he did something wrong. God.

Just…  change the subject.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, walking on walls and shit. But I know someone who might be able to help. You remember that lady at the lab?”

“Doctor Olivia?”

“Yeah, man. She’d know something, and keep it quiet. I’ll call her.”

They were still so close  to each other in that moment. Miles pressed his forehead to Aaron’s,  and  pulled him in to another hug.

So close, they could feel each other’s  hearts thundering  in their chests.

* * *

Last day with Aaron, and they spent it taking the bus upstate. Miles mostly spent his journey looking at the golden trees out of the window.

“You okay, Miles?” Uncle Aaron asked him occasionally.

“Yeah,” he would reply.

They stepped off the bus at the head of the trail towards the lab. Their breathing turned to clouds of steam in the cold winter air.

“Uncle Aaron?” Miles asked, looking down at his shoes as they kicked leaves along the asphalt road. “What was my Dad like back then?”

“Oh, um.” This had taken Aaron by surprise, a little. “Yeah. He was cool. We used to run together with Turk. Learned how to fight.”

“Dad used to fight?” Miles had a starry-eyed look of wonder.

“Yeah, you ever see his trophies?”

“No.”

“Cuz he sold ’em after he went in for the cop thing. But he was good, Miles. Real good.”

They reached the front doors, which slid open silently. Inside the lobby, Doctor Olivia was talking to the receptionist, and Aaron greeted her.

Olivia took them through a maze of identical-looking corridors full of frosted glass. Then she put her hand to a green panel, opening the door to her office, and invited them in.

The room was pretty sparse, but everything inside it was new. The doctor went down to her knees and roughly examined Miles’ face, looking at him up and down. She grabbed one hand, turning it over, before moving her grip to Miles’ shoulder and directed him towards an extremely unwelcoming chair.

“No! Wait a minute...” Miles protested.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.” Aaron insisted, stepping between her and Miles. He turned around. “It’s okay, Miles. The doc just needs to take a quick look at you so we know what’s going on. I’ll be right here, okay?”

He stroked Miles’ cheek tenderly. Miles looked down bashfully.

“Okay,” the kid relented.

Aaron stepped to one side to reveal Olivia. Miles cringed when she resumed her grip on his shoulder, standing up and pushing him firmly towards the chair. With a shove, he fell into it.

“This might pinch a little,” she smirked, before restraints flew over his chest and strapped him in. Cuffs clicked around his wrists and legs. He sucked in a pained breath at the tightness, tugging at the restraints, looking down at himself with uncertainty and a little bit of fear.

“Uncle Aaron!” Miles called out.

“It’s okay, Miles. I’m here. I’m here.” Uncle Aaron approached the chair, standing behind it, and put a reassuring hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

She grabbed a large cotton swab and advanced upon him, forcing it into his mouth. He grimaced and moved back from it, trying to get it out.

“Just need to get these samples...” she muttered.

Olivia slapped Aaron’s grip away, replacing it with her own. He raised both hands and stepped back for a moment. She took a wooden popsicle stick and grabbed Miles’ tongue, but he moved it out of her grasp.

“Hold still,” she ordered, and grabbed his tongue again. He quivered on the spot, and she pressed the stick down for a moment, wiping the swab around the inside of his mouth, before releasing abruptly. Then she went to her microscope and put the sample under it.

“Wow. There it is.”

Aaron was in front of Miles in the chair, saying something to him, but stopped suddenly and stepped aside when Olivia approached.

She pressed a button on the chair, releasing one hand, and catching it before Miles could move it around.

She took out a pair of tweezers and used them to pinch the skin on one finger, grabbing hold of something imperceptible on the end of the digit. Then she yanked.

“Ow!” Miles yelled, and pulled his finger away. A petri dish appeared in her hand, and she placed whatever was between those tweezers on it, before putting _that_ under the microscope.

“Hey, why didn’t you warn him?” Aaron protested, but Olivia dismissed him again with a wave.

Miles looked down  at his free hand. A small bead of blood  formed  on his finger.

“Yes… I’ve seen this before. You’ve been bitten, haven’t you?” she called back to Miles.

“Um, m-maybe?”

Olivia searched the room, pulled out a small packet from somewhere and tore it open.  The contents looked like a butterfly attached to a small tube, and she attached something else to it that Miles couldn’t identify.

She pulled off the plastic cover on the butterfly to reveal a needle. Miles immediately started to struggle in the chair.

“Hold _still_ ,” she ordered, grabbing his free arm and twisting it around. She sank to one knee, concentrating on the pinned arm. “Now, where’s the vein.”

“Olivia, isn’t this going too...” Aaron started.

“I assure you, this is all necessary. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said, dismissively.

A vein located, she placed the needle against Miles’ skin. The kid cringed and looked away.

The reassuring hand of Aaron came down on his shoulder again. “Look at me, Miles. Breathe.”

They looked into each other’s eyes.

Blood  rushed down the tube, filling the syringe. Aaron  glanced over, but Miles couldn’t bear to look.  When it was full, she  peeled the wings  away  and flicked the needle out.

The spot formed a bead of blood, but before Olivia could push the cotton bud to the wound, it closed on its own.  She took the syringe over to the microscope and squeezed its contents out onto another petri dish, sliding it into the tray.

“Wow. I never thought I’d see anything like this again.”

She approached Aaron, standing behind Miles in the chair. “Looks you’ve got a little super on your hands. Climbing walls, that’s very interesting. He’s stronger than before, of course, and can take a good amount of hits before he’s actually hurt. Look at this.”

Then she produced a scalpel and dragged it across the back of Miles’ bound arm. A bright red line formed. Miles screamed.

“That’s enough!” Aaron grabbed Olivia’s arm in a rage and slapped the scalpel out of her hand. It pinged across the room, settling in a corner.

She tilted her head at Aaron, contemplating him, before yanking her arm out of his grasp.

“I was done, anyway.”

The chair released Miles, and he collapsed  onto his hands and knees, breathing heavily.  His uncle rushed over and pulled him into an embrace.

Aaron noticed the long wound on Miles’ arm  was knitting together. In fact, any trace of it was vanishing, like a zipper closing  up.

A smug smirk crept across the doctor’s face.

“He’s gotta get used to it, the powers won’t be going away. It’s up to you how you want to do it.”

On the bus home, Miles looked at the ground, knees to his chin.  The sky darkened, and the trees outside became almost ghostly in the moonlight.  Aaron kept an arm around him all the way to the Port Authority.

When they got back to Aaron’s apartment, Miles approached the punching bag and landed a big one into the middle of the sack.

He was  _pissed_. 

One, two. One in the middle. Then one in the top, which caused a giant  _RIP_ ,  and the sack  flew  across the room. Sand  popped from  the top, fabric fluttered down, and the whole thing dropped to the ground hard.

Then Aaron was there, his touch enveloping the arms of the  furious kid,  his shoulders rising and falling.

“Man, I’m so sorry, Miles. I should have stopped her earlier.”

Miles turned around and buried his face in his chest, gripping the sides of his uncle’s torso, and sobbed.

They stayed like that  for a moment.

“We just needed to know what was happening to you, but I never dreamed this was gonna happen. I’m never gonna let her near you again, okay? I promise.”

The kid looked up, his face streaked with tears.

“Okay,” he sniffed.


	5. I Don't Want To Be A Superhero

It was the first time Jeff had seen his son in a week. He’d checked in with Aaron and Miles over messages, and all seemed fine from what they told him, but it was a relief for him to see his son in the flesh again.

Miles seemed off, though.

“How was school?” Jeff asked.

“It’s fine,” Miles replied. He picked up a slice of pizza and curled it, biting off the tip.

“You know if you need any help, all you gotta do is ask–”

“It’s fine, Dad. I’m okay.”

Jeff exhaled, and drummed his fingers together.

“I love you, Miles. You know that. But… look.”

Miles looked up from his pizza, mid-bite.

“Sometimes… people drift apart, Miles. And I don’t want that to happen to us, okay? Look, I know I don’t always do what you need me to do or say what you need me to say, but I see this… _spark_ in you. It’s amazing, it’s why I push you. But it’s yours. And whatever you choose to do with it, you’ll be great.”

Miles placed his slice of pizza on top of the box and looked down at his knees. He grabbed a handful of his jeans in each hand, balling the fabric in his fists.

“I don’t know how you can see any spark when you’re not even here most of the time.” he growled. Angry tears filled his eyes, shook loose when he looked up at his father.

Jeff made a shocked, inarticulate noise of hurt,  blown back by his son’s hard glare.

“I was _happy_ at Brooklyn Middle. But that’s not good enough for you, nothing I ever do is good enough.” Miles wiped his cheek and swallowed. “You never ask me what I want, just push me into what you want. And you’re never here most of the time anyway.”

“I’m so sorry, Miles. You… you know how it is.” Jeff mumbled guiltily.

Miles picked up his pizza box and left, shaking with fury and upset. He closed his door with a slam,  dumping the box on his bed and wiped his face with his arm.

He breathed giant, shuddering breaths.  He needed air.

He  opened a window, catching a lungful of the city night.  The smell was  of decaying trash and  burning  gasoline.

Crouched down on the edge, he carefully felt along the wall until he found brick. He looked up to the stars.

_Confidence, Miles. It’s not very far down_ ,  he thought to himself.  That  was  a lie,  of course,  but it  didn’t  matter.

A deep breath, and he turned around, looking into his room again. Then he reached over with his other hand, and lost his balance, falling out of the window.

He cringed, closing his eyes for the fall that never came. When he opened them again, both his hands were firmly stuck to the wall next to the window. Just hanging there.

Another deep breath, and his feet found purchase on the wall. He stayed there for a moment before attempting to move again.

He couldn’t move. He was stuck.

“Oh, man.”

Then he looked down, which was a mistake,  and instinctively pressed himself to the wall in fright.  Muttering a  quiet  stream of  curses under his panicked breath,  he didn’t even realize he was climbing until half a second after  starting his crawl  up the side of the building. He reached the edge of the flat roof, grabbing the edge and easing himself over.

Well, more like scrambling and falling over  onto the roof. It was not dignified.

Miles dusted himself off and looked across Brooklyn.

That was wall climbing.

Getting back down was another issue. He didn’t feel like explaining to his dad why he was on the wrong side of the door after dashing down the inside stairwell,  and the fire escape didn’t go up this high.

His second try at wall climbing went a little better. Still terrifying, though, but he preferred having sticky hands that wouldn’t release to slippery hands that would.

Back inside, he pulled on a pair of sneakers from under his bed and pulled on his hoodie,  before leaving once again. Crawling down the wall until he met the ground, convincing his fingers to release from the wall, and stepped out the alley like it was nothing.

Down to the subway. Jump the barrier. Away, to somewhere familiar.

Miles waited for the train to clear the platform before dropping down to the tracks. The door was still unlocked from last time.

Through the dark tunnels, which seemed less pitch-black than the time before. He followed them to the best of his memory, and he was rewarded by the dark cavern that Uncle Aaron took him to.

The lights fizzed and blinked on after pulling the breaker. He looked up at his  intact artwork,  and he felt an odd pang in his chest when he thought about its creation, sitting on Aaron’s shoulders.

Something equally as bright caught his eye. He approached the object and crouched down in front of it. A dead spider, its legs curled up. Pretty colorful too.

Pulling a marker out of his pocket, he poked at it. Nothing happened.

Then he flipped it over, and saw the logo on its back.

His eyes went wide. Something in his mind screamed, a thousand voices rushed through, just like the first time. He slipped, crashing onto his ass, and scrambled back from it instinctively before his brain caught up.

It was dead. It wasn’t gonna do anything to him, was it?

In the end, he took it with him, putting it in the pocket of his hooded sweater. He followed the tracks back out to the platform of the subway and took a train.

Aaron wasn’t at his apartment when he showed up. As always, he climbed the fire escape and sneaked in through the unlocked window.

He searched the kitchen area, taking out a meal-prep box and throwing the dead spider into the tray, and placing that on the coffee table.

A new punching bag hung from the ceiling by a metal chain. Miles went straight over and delivered a firm tap into its side, then jabbed at it before giving it a hard punch. This time, it didn’t go flying.

Uncle Aaron arrived as Miles had worked up a sweat. The kid had stripped down to a jersey on his top half, occasionally wiping his forehead with his arm.

He unlocked the claws and put them on the kitchen counter. He pulled his hood off, and dumped the earpiece.

“How you doin’, Miles?” he asked.

Miles didn’t respond. Instead of wiping his forehead, he started wiping his eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey...” Aaron approached his nephew from behind, putting both his hands on his shoulders, but Miles shrugged them off and pointed at the coffee table.

“Look!” he demanded.

Aaron reached over the couch and picked up the meal-prep box, peering into it, and his eyes widened. “Oh shit. Miles, I swear, I didn’t know anything about this.”

“Someone knew. Now all this weird stuff is happening, and I don’t wanna be a super, I don’t wanna be like Spider-Man, I don’t...” Miles stopped and stepped back from the punching bag and put his arm across his eyes, doubling over. Aaron dropped the box and put his hands on Miles’ arms, pulling him into a hug.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh...” he hushed the crying kid. “I got a good idea who it was who did that to you, and we’ll make her pay. You got it? The doc’s gotta pay. We’ll work something out, yeah? And I swear, she’ll never come near you again.”

“Okay,” said Miles simply.

The little of Miles’ face that wasn’t pushed into his arm was enclosed by Aaron’s embrace. He picked him up with a great swing and carried him over to the couch.

Both seated, Aaron pulled Miles into his chest, and rested his chin in the crook of his nephew’s neck. He breathed in, and his heart sped up, and the small voice of chattering doubt nagged at the back of the uncle’s head.

Aaron looked down, pressed his lips to the skin of Miles’ neck, and kissed.

Miles froze for a moment, before swinging his arm around, drawing Aaron in tight, in an almost bone-crushing embrace. He whined.

His lips pushed to his nephew’s neck, Aaron kissed again.

The adult hands traveled down the small of his back, sliding up Miles’ jersey. Miles released his hug, twisting around and touching his uncle’s arms, coated in the fibrous armor of his Prowler uniform. He pulled his uncle’s arms around him like a seatbelt, making Uncle Aaron hold him in place, before catching an uncovered wrist and touching it to his stomach.

He pulled the wrist down lower, and it started to dawn on Aaron what he was doing.

“Miles, I can’t...” he started.

“Just...” Miles mumbled, and directed his uncle’s hand.

With his free hand, Miles pulled down the zipper of his jeans. His cock strained through his boxers, and he moved his teenage boner over the waistband.

With the other, he closed Aaron’s fingers and directed the hand down to his erection.

“Miles, no, we’re… we...” Aaron tried again. Miles just shushed him, turning his head back and planting a desperate kiss on his cheek.

Miles took Aaron’s hand and curled it, balling it into a fist. He touched it to the tip of his cock, mashing it into the palm, humping and grinding into his uncle’s fist. He grunted with effort, and something else.

Aaron couldn’t understand how it had escalated so fast. From a kiss he thought was familial at best, to… this. They’d crossed a line, and now his nephew was humping into his palm, making the most desperate, needy sounds he’d ever heard.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he shifted his hand around, pulling at Miles’ cock himself. Miles melted into his touch, moaning in relief.

No going back.

Aaron directed Miles, this time turning them face to face, skinny knees in the adult’s lap. His hand was pressed between them, jerking off his nephew in a tight, two-fingered grip.

Miles’ face was flushed, his hands covering it in near-embarrassment. Aaron peeled one young hand away and replaced it with his own, tenderly stroking his cheek. Miles just whined and moaned wordlessly.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh. Ssh, ssh, ssh.” Aaron kept whispering.

Despite everything he was doing, Aaron was doing his best to ignore his own erection. He was just helping his nephew out, that was all. It was all about Miles. Nothing else.

Miles started to hump into Aaron’s fingers again, and in response, Aaron closed his fist around his little boner, a thumb over the head, giving him something to thrust into.

The little noises the kid was making were becoming more strained, getting closer and closer until with one last thrust of the hips, he went over the edge. He shouted as he came, covering his uncle’s hand, thrusting and shuddering, releasing it all.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Aaron said, over and over, holding the shivering boy riding through his orgasm. A wave of repressed heat crashed over him in the comedown, his mouth opening and closing uselessly. Sweat beaded across his forehead, blood roared in his ears.

Aaron was all that his eyes could see.

He stared into Aaron’s eyes, put his hands behind his uncle’s head, and dived straight into a deep kiss. The kid pushed his tongue into his uncle’s mouth, tasting the inside of his cheeks, running them over his teeth, before touching on the tongue, wrestling and manipulating it inside the mouth.

But it was not an experienced kiss. Drool escaped their lips, running down their chins. Uncle Aaron took his clean hand and slipped it behind Miles’ neck, taking over control, pushing his own tongue into his nephew’s mouth.

They broke apart for a moment, and Miles was panting from both the comedown and the breathless intensity of the kiss. Aaron saw the look on his face.

He couldn’t resist that face.

He went in for seconds.

“Nngf,” Miles mumbled into the kiss, his eyes squeezed tight, their lips and tongues intertwined. Miles’ hands traveled up and down his uncle’s face, over his neck, on his shoulders, down his back.

They broke again, and just stared into each other’s eyes. Written across them was burning, torturous, endless _need_. Need beyond words.

Things would never be the same.

* * *

Some time later, after they’d cleaned up, Uncle Aaron took Miles out for a walk, picking up beer and soda from the bodega a few blocks away.

They took the long way back to Aaron’s apartment, through the church yard, through the cemetery. The snow had piled up over the past couple of days, crunching under their feet. They walked next to each other, hand in hand, a plastic bag slung over Aaron’s shoulder.

Miles looked at the tombstones as the two of them passed through the graveyard. They were adorned with flowers, drowned in the snow.

He stopped suddenly when they walked past a particular grave, breaking free of Aaron’s hand and kneeling into a squat. Dozens of flowers, pictures and tributes surrounded the tombstone of Peter Parker.

“Oh,” said Aaron. He joined Miles on the ground, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Uncle Aaron, I need to tell you something. That day when I...” he swallowed, instead of saying it. “Yeah. Um, I never liked Spider-Man. Never. And he tried to kill you, and I, I just...”

“Miles, y’know, what I do is... not good. It’s work. Your dad didn’t want you following me like this...” Aaron started.

Miles looked back at Aaron. “Uncle Aaron, I liked it. It felt like... like us, just now, in the apartment. Just thinking about it, I...”

And he adjusted himself.

_Fuck_ , Aaron thought. _What kind of kid is this?_

He’d fallen silent. Miles leaned back into him,  pushing into his chest, pining for his embrace. The kid was tugging on the bulge in his pants,  like it was nothing.

Like they weren’t  both  crouched over the grave of the man that Miles had killed. 


End file.
